Breaking The Chain
by GoldenJuiceBox
Summary: Certain events have caused Italy to start up old habits again. Can Germany and Romano stop him before it's too late? Pairings: GerIta, little Spamano. Rated for self harm, substance abuse, people country abuse, and possible lemons. No flames please!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Well Mizu, here you tis. Even though class is being recorded today, I am powering through and writing this and if you think about it, Hetalia is social studies. Now, to my thousands of fans. This is a pretty dark fic with a self-harming Italy. There may or may not be some yaoi somewhere along the way. But I promise there will be super fluff! There will also be caps lock and foreign languages. If any of this bothers you, please don't read my fic and no flames. Now…onto le story!

Italy was currently kneeling on the kitchen counter browsing the cupboards for some pasta. Prussia and France had taken Germany to the bar to celebrate the down fall of his boss. Italy wanted to put together a special dinner. He was reaching towards the back of the cupboard for a particularly special pasta when he heard the door slam.

"Italien!" Italy was startled by the door and the shout from the angry sounding German and managed to fall off the counter.

"Ve~! Doitsu! You're back early!" the Italian exclaimed cheerfully as he got up.

"Yes, of course I am! France got us kicked out of another bar. Were you cooking?"

"Well, actually, I was about to make some pasta before you got back!"

"Pasta?" this time, Italy cringed at Germany's tone. "Is that all you can make? Mein Gott! Pathetic Italian!" Germany had stopped shouting long enough to see Italy crying. He slapped Italy hard enough to make his head hit the counter. This earned more crying. "Why are you crying?"

"D-doitsu…you started yelling…and you hit me…you never act like this…"

"Maybe I should start and get you to act more like a respectable soldier." There was silence between the two other than Italy's quiet sobs.

"Alright…I'll make wurst for dinner then," Italy said as he got up and walked to the fridge, tears still falling.

"Gut." Germany swayed as he left the kitchen. It all made sense to Italy why he was being so violent. He was drunk out of his mind. It was just another place that the two were polar opposites; Germany was more aggressive when he was drunk while Italy would become the horniest person you ever met.

Italy put a pot of water on the stove to boil and added some of Germany's favorite spices to it as well. As the water was heating up, Italy took all of Germany's beer out of the fridge and hid it in the dresser in his scarcely used bedroom. The water was just starting to boil as he got back into the kitchen so he unwrapped the wurst and put it in the water.

"I should probably make a side dish too," Italy thought aloud to himself. He went into the fridge to see if there were any potatoes. Nope. He checked all of the cupboards. For once, they were completely out of potatoes. Italy couldn't go to the store with the stove on and was much too shaken up to ask Germany. He knew exactly who to call.

A/N: Well, how was the first chapter? I know it's a little short, but I had my friend chose between short chapters and long chapters. Short attention span makes for short chapters. Please review (and favorite if you really liked it) and I'll try to update as fast as I can!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, here's chapter two. This one shall be longer. Why? Well why not? Also, as of right now, I'm betaing myself. Volunteers? PM me if so! But I think next chapter will get to Italy self-harming and such.

*At Romano's House*

The phone rang. Romano went to see who it was. Potato bastard.

"What?" he greeted coldly.

"Fratello!" Romano recognized that voice; it was Italy.

"Italy…why are you calling? What did the potato bastard do?" It did sound like Italy had been crying yet again.

"Wha-nothing! Could you do me a favor?"

"What do you need?"

"Well…could you pick up some potatoes? Doitsu is either asleep or doing important paperwork and I don't want to bother him to get them since I'm already cooking," Italy hastily explained. Potatoes for the potato bastard. That's why he called. Romano sighed.

"Si…I'll be over in a bit."

"Grazie!"

*At Germany's House*

Italy set the phone on the counter and went back to tending the wurst. He set the heat on low so they would be finished cooking at the same time as the potatoes. Italy was pulling out a tray for the potatoes when there was a knock on the door.

"Romano!" Italy ran and opened the door, pulling his brother into a hug. He was shoved off almost immediately.

"Hello fratello. What happened to you?" Romano asked, noticing the bruise on the side of Italy's face.

"Oh, this? I fell off the counter when I was grabbing some pasta." Italy lied.

"I don't smell any pasta," Romano observed, frowning.

"I know…I changed my mind after I fell."

"Well, alright. Here are your potatoes," Romano said as he handed Italy the potatoes, still a little skeptical.

"Grazie!" Italy pulled his brother into another hug.

"Yeah, yeah, ciao."

"Ciao!" Italy closed the door and ran into the kitchen. He wrapped the potatoes in some foil and put them into the oven after making sure there were enough toppings. Baked potatoes were the only kind he was really good at.

Once the potatoes were done, Italy put the wurst onto a platter and got the table set. He went off to find Germany.

Italy found the German asleep in his office. He took a risk and gently shook Germany awake.

"G-Germany…I made some wurst and potatoes,he said as he stepped away from the waking german.

"Alright." Germany said as he got up. The two walked into the kitchen together.

* * *

"Italy."

"Si?" there was slight fear in the Italian's eyes.

"Why didn't you drain the water from the wurst?"

"Mi dispiace! I forgot!" Italy's eyes welled up, afraid of what would happen. Italy had braced himself for a hit, but didn't see Germany's chosen attack coming. The German had thrown the pot of hot water onto Italy. Italy screamed as the hot water scalded his skin.

"Now go clean up!" Germany bellowed as he sat down at the table. At least the Italian could cook.

Italy sprinted off to the bathroom and stripped, getting into a cold shower. The cool water soothed his burns. He quickly got washed up and out of the shower, dressed, and ran to the kitchen to clean up the mess from the water. Germany had eaten and passed out on the couch by the time Italy was done with his shower.

"Doitsu…"Italy put a blanket over the sleeping German, careful not to wake him. He then proceeded to clean up the kitchen.

When Italy was finished, he was exhausted and he ached. He went into his bedroom (or what had come to be) and slept in his own bed, not running to Germany when nightmares plagued his sleep yet again.

A/N: Please review! This chapter is a bit longer, sorry, there won't be a general length for the chapters. Also, Italy and Germany share a room now. Because they are together. And translations: Mi dispiace: I'm sorry (Italian), Fratello: brother (Italian), Grazie: Thank you (Italian) and from last chapter, Italien: Italy (German) I'll try to post more than one chapter at a time.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Well, here is chapter 3! It will be long. And there will be self-harm next chapter most definitely. If this bothers you, you can still turn around and read some fluffier fics. I actually don't have all that much to say…OH! I don't own Hetalia! If I did…well…I don't think fan fiction would be very necessary ;)

*In The Morning*

Germany opened his eyes and sat up. He instantly regretted it. He had one of the worst hangovers of his life. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly noon! But one thing he also noticed as he took in his surroundings, was that for once, there wasn't an Italian sleeping next to him. Or even in the same room.

Germany got up, despite his body's protests, and searched the house for Italy. He checked their bedroom first. No Italy. _Where could he be? Romano? No…too early for either of them to be up anyways…wait…_Germany ran to Italy's room and threw open the door. His little angel was balled up on the edge of the bed with a tear-streaked face.

"Italy…"Germany gently shook the Italian awake.

"Ve~!" Italy jumped when he saw Germany, wondering if he was still drunk. "Buon giornno Doitsu~" he said lazily.

"Italy, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Oh…"Italy didn't want to tell Germany what happened because he didn't want Germany to think he was too weak to defend himself and leave him. So Italy decided a little lie wouldn't hurt. "Well, I was a bit too clumsy last night when I was cooking."

"Ah. Well, then let's have some breakfast." Now it was Italy's turn to notice the time.

"Germany, I think it's a bit late for breakfast." Germany remembered the time as well.

"Ja…I guess it is. What shall we have then?"

"Pasta~!" Italy threw his arms into the air as he hopped out of bed.

"Okay, but first let's get dressed." The two walked to their bedroom to get dressed.

Italy pulled his usual outfit out of his dresser and started to undress. Germany looked over as Italy took off his shirt.

"Italien!" Germany looked worried.

"Ve~?"

"What happened to your chest?" The German walked over and looked at the Italians burn skin.

"Well…I accidentally slipped and dumped hot water on myself. It's okay though! It doesn't hurt that much anymore!"

"Well, alright. Tell me if it starts to hurt though."

"Okay!" and with that, the two finished getting dressed and headed down to the kitchen.

*In The Kitchen*

Italy had started some water on the stove and was once again, kneeling on the counter for the special pasta. Germany watched closely hoping Italy wouldn't manage to fall again.

Just as Italy had hopped down, pasta in hand, the phone rang. Germany picked up the phone just to hear a lovely greeting.

"POTATO BASTARD! COSA DIAVOCO HAI FATTO AMI FRATTELO? SO CHE ERI UBRACO LA NOTTE SCORSA ELA PRUSSIA MI HA DETTO COME SI OTTIENE!"

Italy heard what Romano was screaming over the phone and took it from a confused Germany.

"Lovi! Si prega di smettere! Non preoccupare! Staro bene! Appena si prega di smettere di uriare!" Italy said, trying to calm his brother down. Romano must have put the pieces together.

"Just keep that ass away from alcohol" Romano said in a considerably quieter voice before hanging up.

"What was that all about?" Germany asked as he didn't understand most of the conversation. All Germany understood was Prussia.

"Romano is just tantruming again," Italy said as he set down the phone and went back to tending the pasta.

The day went on as it normally would, except Germany would occasionally look through the kitchen cupboards.

"Doitsu…what are you looking for" Italy asked, glancing up from his recipe book.

"My beer seems to be missing."

"Maybe Prussia took it," Italy had guilt in his eyes as he made what he knew to be a false suggestion.

"I don't think he could have. He hasn't been home for-" Germany was cut off by the door flying open and his brother yelling as loud as he possibly could.

"HEY WEST!"

Germany closed his syes, as though closing out his brother. "What do you want?"

"France said he needs us."

"Why?"

"I don't know. He said to come get you though. That or he wants Italy to come."

"No. I'll go. I'm not letting Italy within a 20 meter radius of France."

"Then let's go!" Prussia was already walking out the door to his car.

Germany sighed as he put his boots on. "It's going to be a long day…"

"It's okay! Whatever France has planned should take your mind off of your hangover!"

"Ja. Or worsen it. Wait-how did you kn-never mind. I'll have dinner with you tonight when I get back. Okay?"

"Okay!" With that, Germany left.

A/N: Okay, so, review, lalala, read next chapter, bask in some cookies, ya know. Whatever. Translations: Romano: What the hell did you do to my brother? I know you were drunk last night and Prussia told me how you get! Italy: Please stop He doesn't remember what happened! Don't worry! I'll be fine! Just please, stop yelling! Next chapter gets a bit darker. Oh, and Mizu, wake up.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: ***PLEASE READ*** Okay, I'll come right out and say it; there will be self-harm in this chapter. Long chapter alert! And a little background knowledge that I couldn't really fit into the story: Germany knows Italy used to cut. He stopped shortly before him and Germany were together. Romano told Germany about it without Italy's knowing. *insert standard Hetalia angst disclaimers here* I don't own Hetalia; I just borrow the characters and play with them. Don't worry. I give them back.

*At France's House*

Prussia and Germany rode in the same car for reasons unknown. Germany did know however, that his head was now pounding. The two walked in and were greeted by France.

France led them to the kitchen and Germany knew exactly what France had planned. A drinking game.

"I'm out," Germany said, turning towards the door.

"No you're not! You said you wouldn't let Italy help! And anyways, don't you want to see who can hold their alcohol better?" Prussia was just provoking Germany, but Germany let his competitiveness get the best of him.

"Fine. How do we play?"

France grinned. "I'll pour two shots. One for each of you. Go until one passes out."

"What is the point of this?"

"Prussia wants to know how many he can go. I need to keep track and we would have Spain but he's with Romano. And obviously Italy is out of the question. The competition, before you ask, makes it fun and easy to measure."

"So you did know?" Germany turned to Prussia.

"Whoops."

"Well…I guess it can't hurt. Fine." And with that, the game began.

*At Germany's House*

Italy was stirring some spaghetti, the special pasta again waiting to be made. Germany was with France and Prussia yet again. But he's a responsible country. And he didn't have a reason to get hammered again, so it was alright! Italy sighed; he was alone again in this big house. Usually he wouldn't mind, but today is different. Something feels off about today.

Italy turned off the stove, and filled a plate with spaghetti. He poured himself a glass of wine and for once, ate quietly.

*At France's House*

"Of all the people you could have gotten drunk!" France was hiding behind the couch from Germany, who was currently flinging silverware at a swaying Prussia.

"Just *hic* get him to the car! Italy will *hic* get him calmed down!" Prussia responded to France.

"Good idea!" France manned up long enough to grab Germany from behind and drag him out the door.

"Am I coming *hic* too?" Prussia shouted out the back door, leaning on the frame.

"No! I do not need two drunken Germans in my car!" France yelled back, slamming his door. He turned the car on and drove off.

*At Germany's House*

A knock at the door had awoken Italy. He got off the couch and opened the door to see France struggling with Germany.

"Here…take him. I don't know which of them won…but I don't need to deal with both of them drunk!" France exclaimed as he handed a drunken Germany to a confused Italy.

"Alright. Thanks for bringing him home!" France nodded to Italy and got in his car. Italy shut the door.

"Get upstairs," Germany growled. Italy quickly and fearfully complied. Italy stood in the kitchen, not knowing what to do. Germany entered the kitchen and cornered Italy. Italy started to tear up again.

"Are you crying again?"

"I'm sorry! I can't help it! You're scaring me Doitsu!" Italy said in between sobs.

"Is that really why?"

"Yes!"

Germany seemed unsatisfied with this response. He reached around Italy, grabbed a knife from the rack, and slammed it into the counter next to Italy. Italy jumped and began to cry harder.

"Doitsu! Please!"

"Go ahead. Cut. You know you want to as much as I know you want to."

"Germany…you should go sleep this off."

"No! I'm not leaving this spot and neither are you until I see you bleed!" the German bellowed. Italy gave in. He pulled the knife out of the counter, pulled up his left sleeve, and dug the blade into his wrist. Blood slowly started to flow out. It hurt, but Italy embraced the long missed feeling. He didn't mind the pain at all. He knew Germany only wanted to see him bleed since he had already walked away. He wore an insane grin.

But he couldn't stop. He kept digging the knife into his skin, enjoying the bite of his long awaited relapse. No. This wasn't a relapse. It was much more. It was like being reunited with a deeply missed friend and handcuffing himself to them. But instead of losing the key, there was never a key to start with.

Italy was too busy grinning at the blade in his wrist and the blood dripping out to hear the door open and someone walk up the stairs.

"Fratello!" Italy jumped at Romano's voice. Romano took the knife out of Italy's hand, threw it in the sink, knelt by Italy, and held his brother's bleeding wrist. "Feli…I thought you stopped. Why would you do this?" Romano asked sadly as he held Italy. Germany walked in on this scene, sensing an intruder in his house. "POTATO BASTARD! Why didn't you stop him? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH Y-" Romano had received a solid punch to the face from Germany.

"Romano!" Italy went to his brother, insane grin faded.

"Italy, go clean up." Romano said as he got up. Italy went into the bathroom upstairs.

Italy could hear the two fighting from the bathroom. He sat leaning against the tub digging his nails into the cuts. He could feel unconsciousness starting to sweep over him.

*Downstairs*

Romano had been knocked out by an overly aggressive Germany. At this, Germany retreated to the couch and fell asleep.

*In The Morning*

Germany woke up once again with a monster hangover. "I'm never drinking again…" he said as he went into the kitchen for a glass of water. He tripped. "The hell?" he looked down and saw Romano and a small puddle and trail of blood leading upstairs. Germany ran, following the trail to the upstairs bathroom and gasped at what he saw. Italy was passed out on the bathroom floor covered in his own blood. "Italy!" Germany took Italy into his arms and noticed the source of his bleeding. He had been cutting again. Germany grabbed some gauze from a shelf and began to wrap Italy's wounds. Germany looked up to see Romano leaning in the doorway.

"You did that to him."

Germany was taken aback by Romano's comment. Why would he do this to Italy? "I would never do this to him."

"Completely hammered you would. You also gave him the bruise and the burn."

"How did you know about the burn?"

"He called and asked how to make it stop hurting this morning."

"Italy…I'm sorry Romano."

"Don't apologize to me. I would kick your ass anyways. I'd better get back before tomato bastard starts calling people though."

Germany stood up, Italy in arms, and went to their room soon after Romano left.

Germany changed Italy into clean clothes and felt a pang of guilt as he again looked at the burn. He put Italy under the covers and climbed in next to him.

A/N: So…how was it? I'd love some reviews. Wonder what's going to happen next chapter? So do I. I shall have to sit here with a cat until I get a flood of ideas into my brain for you to read.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: So…I got some reviews. *BOUNCEBOUNCEBOUNCE* I thank and give cookies to everyone who favorited, reviewed, and added my story to their alerts and favorites! If you want to skip to this chapter's warnings, please go to the stars. I would also like to thank my lovely beta I have acquired, StarFormerAdira. I requisition you check out any of her fics. And now, I shall respond to a review (that of Hetaliafangirl) that provoked thought in myself. Yes, I do think I will include a flashback chapter of how this all started. It would be nice, wouldn't it? And no, Germany doesn't remember hurting Italy, too drunk to remember how to pee even. Romano isn't removing Italy from Germany because he knows Italy would only go back to Germany or Germany would go to Italy. And yes, Germany will do everything he can to get full forgiveness from Italy (even though that isn't all too difficult). ***Now for some warnings! This chapter shall include: super fluff, guilty Germany, and again, a self harming Italy. Yes. I went there yet again. There wouldn't be much of a fic if this was all over now would there? I would have put some yaoi in this chapter (I have decided to include it in the fic) but the fact that I started this chapter at school with a teacher in close range was a major cock-block). I should probably just give you the story after this long author's note…here it is!

About an hour later, Germany felt Italy stir. The small Italian blinked his eyes open and saw germany.

"D-Doitsu?"

Germany pulled Italy closer and held him tightly. "I'm so sorry Feliciano…I never should have-I'm just so sorry…I should have been much more responsible and now I've caused _you_ pain." Italy snuggled into Germany's chest.

"It's alright Germany. It wasn't your fault. I could have stopped myself."

"You shouldn't have had to. But I did end up tripping over Romano this morning."

Italy was surprised. "Romano is still here?"

"Yes, passed out on the kitchen floor."

"You're strong Germany." Italy smiled. But then he thought of something. He remembered last night. How he couldn't stop even after Germany left. "Ludwig?" Italy looked into the ocean blue eyes of his lover.

"Yes, Italy?" Italy had used his name. This worried Germany.

"I…well…last night…I couldn't stop…even after you left…I couldn't stop cutting." Italy looked away with a shamed look in his eyes. These words shattered Germany's heart. Had he restarted the young Italian's horrible habit?

"Please Feliciano…just don't start up again."

"But…I love how it feels. It feels so good."

"Do you know what else feels good?"

"What?"

"This." Germany rolled on top of Italy and kissed him passionately. Their tongues battled for dominance. Italy moaned as Germany gently pulled on his curl. The two pulled away for oxygen, both smiling. "Now, let's go eat something."

Italy giggled. "Okay, let's go!" He flinched as he pushed himself out of bed.

"Italy, are you alright?" Germany had concern in his voice.

"Si! I'm just a little sore," Italy said smiling.

"Alright." The two left the bedroom.

When they entered the kitchen, they both noticed the drying puddle of blood on the floor.

"I'm sorry Germany! I'll clean it up, I promise!" Italy was panicking over the mess he had made the night before.

"Italy, it's alright. I'll clean up the kitchen and bathroom. You need to go rest. I'll make something to eat," Germany said, trying to calm the Italian.

"Okay, grazie!" Italy replied cheerfully as he went to lay on the couch in the living room. He had lost more blood than he thought.

Germany grabbed some cleaner and towels from under the sink. His eyes were sad as he cleaned up all of blood Italy had managed to spill on his own. Germany thought about what Italy had said. It was obvious the teen couldn't stop, considering the amount of blood in the bathroom as well.

Germany headed back downstairs to start on lunch. He decided to just make sandwiches; they would be easy for Italy to handle right now. He got out the bread, ham, tomatoes, lettuce, and miracle whip (or mayo if you prefer) and put together two sandwiches for himself and one for the Italian who had fallen asleep.

Germany walked into the living room, a plate and glass of wine in hand. He set the two items on the coffee table and gently shook Italy awake. Italy rubbed his eyes, one of the things about Italy that Germany thought was undeniably cute. Germany handed the plate to Italy as he sat up.

"Here."

"Grazie!" Italy ate hungrily. He downed the wine after the sandwich and laid back down, satisfied. Germany had been eating in the kitchen while Italy ate.

Germany put his dishes in the sink and walked into the living room to find that Italy was no longer on the couch. This worried Germany.

"Italy!" Germany shouted. He went to walk down the hallway when he heard quiet gasps coming from the bathroom. It was Italy. Germany knocked on the door. "Italy?"

"G-Germany…go away. I'll be out in a minute."

"Like hell you will…Italy, open up! Italy!" Germany now had fear in his voice as he pounded on the door. He knew what Italy was doing, and it was his fault. Italy was now locked in the bathroom cutting, and Germany couldn't stop him.

Germany suddenly remembered something. He ran into his office and dug around for a pin. He found one and ran back to the bathroom. He stuck the pin in the keyhole and hear the tell-tale click that he had unlocked the door. He threw the door open and saw Italy leaning over the sink, his arm bleeding, blade in hand.

"D-Doitsu."

"Verdammt!" Germany took the blade from Italy's hand and threw it across the room. It slid under a cabinet. Germany looked at the damage done to Italy's arm. He was bleeding profusely. Germany grabbed some antiseptic and gauze. He began to clean and bandage Italy's arm. "I told you not to do this, Italy!"

"I never said I wouldn't do it!"

Germany hugged Italy tightly.

"Feli…you don't have to keep cutting though. There are better ways to deal with things. You know you can tell me anything, Feli."

"And you won't get mad?"

"No. I promise."

"Okay…I…I never wanted to stop," Italy was now hiding his face in Germany's chest. "When you made me do it again…I was happy. I wanted to say thank you; but I was afraid of what Romano would say."

"Italy, I think in that situation Romano would have a talk with me…with his fists."

Italy giggled; it was true. It would give Romano yet another thing for him to shout about.

"Doitsu?"

"Yes, Italy?"

"Can we get up?"

Germany laughed. "Ja." He helped the smaller of the two up. The blade sitting under the cabinet was, for now, forgotten.

A/N: Okay, I dearly apologize for the long wait and short chapter. But when I posted the first four, they were all there! I can assure you though, this fic won't get discontinued. I'm not that cruel. I will also make sure to update more than once a year. I don't think there is much for translations here though. If there are…well…tell me and I'll put them in!


	6. Chapter 6

**PLEASE READ BEFORE CHAPTER (and before the author's note...)! Towards the end there was initially a [rather long] yaoi scene. I cut that due to FanFiction taking down explicit stories. I have put up warnings, but just in case, I have removed the sex scene for now. It's not gone forever, just until FanFiction decided to realize that the yaoi is what lots of us come here for. I greatly apologize, and I'm rather irritated I had to take down my first yaoi scene, but it had to be done so that the rest of the fic could stay up. **

**A/N: I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! School sometimes comes first…when projects are due…it is one of those times. But my project is now done, along with this chapter. And now for me to praise all of you. 15 FAVORITES! 4 FAVORITE AUTHORS! 16 STORY ALERTS! Thank you everybody, and thank you StarFormerAdira (I suggest you check out her fic[s]) for betaing. You tis a lovely beta. And thank you Mizu for being practically on top of me this whole time. Damn cat human thing…ANYWAYS. Warnings. I rated this fic for a reason. Because. This chapter has…LE CUTTING AND YAOI! Yes, I went all the way and put in some full on GerIta malexmale sex. No like? Go away. This is also my first yaoi scene…so…I'm sorry if it is not as good as others you have read. I guess it just takes practice ;) I don't own Hetalia…wish I did…blah blah blah…read the chapter already.**

The two went back into the living room and sat on the couch. Italy set his head on Germany's lap. He began to ramble on and on about nearly everything. He talked about pasta, siestas, what Romano and Spain did in their spare time, why he doesn't like pajamas, and more pastas.

Finally, Germany pressed his lips to Italy's to silence him. The kiss became more heated as their tongues warred and Italy wrapped his arms around Germany's neck. Germany was working at removing Italy's shirt. It was hanging off his shoulders when the phone rang. The two groaned at the loss of contact and the interruption. Germany reached around Italy and grabbed the phone off the coffee table.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Germany!" It was England. "America has called for a world meeting. Must be some novel idea of his."

Germany sighed. "Alright, we'll be there." With that, the two hung up.

"What is it?" Italy asked. The look in Italy's eyes made Germany not want to move.

"World meeting."

"Now?"

"Ja." Germany lifted Italy off of him. "Come on, we should get dressed. And at least comb your hair!"

Italy got up and went into their bedroom. He dug through drawers until he found his blue uniform. He threw it all on haphazardly and put on some socks. Germany was straightening his tie when Italy was combing his hair. Italy set down his comb and ran to put his boots on.

"GERMANY!"

'_I didn't hear a crash or thud, he didn't fall. What does he want?' _Germany thought as he made his way to the source of the noise. He saw Italy sitting by the door. Of course. He can make the world's best pasta but he can't tie his own boots.

Germany sat down, pulling the Italian into his lap. Italy wiggled his hips suggestively, which got him scolded.

"Not now Italy."

"Ve~"

Italy's boots were tied. The two stood up and Germany quickly laced and tied his, which mesmerized Italy. Germany grabbed his keys, sent Italy out to the car, then closed and locked the door.

The ride to the meeting was full of more of Italy's pointless rambling.

They arrived at the conference and sat down across from Spain and Romano.

Once everyone was there, America started the meeting. Italy tuned out almost instantly.

While America was giving his 'elaborate' speech, Italy began tugging on Germany's sleeve.

"Germany."

"What is it Italy?"

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"Well then, go."

"Okay!" Italy hopped out of his chair and scurried out of the room with Romano and Germany's eyes watching him.

"What was with that look?" Spain asked Romano. He had noticed Romano's eyes following Italy.

"Nothing."

"Alright."

The meeting droned on, Italy still absent.

*In The Bathroom*

Italy sat against the wall and pulled a small pocket knife out of his jacket. He still remembered what Germany said when he gave it to him; _"Now, Italy, that's not for cooking." _Italy didn't intend on using the knife for cooking. Blood wouldn't add much flavor after all.

Italy pulled back his sleeve and plunged the knife in near his elbow. He made sure not to make it so deep that he bled out, but deep enough to hurt. He closed his eyes and savored the sensation.

*In The Conference Room*

Spain leaned over to Romano. "I'll be right back."

"Where you going?"

"Bathroom."

"See if Italy's still in there. I hope the idiot didn't run off to get pasta."

"Okay." Spain exited the conference room and walked to the bathroom.

Spain knocked and opened the door (It's not like Italy was modest).

"Italy, are you - ITALY!" What Spain saw is what he never would have expected. Italy was sitting on the ground, holding a blade to his arm. Spain rushed to Italy's side and grabbed the knife.

"Give that back!" Italy shouted, not caring who heard.

"No! Why should I? Oh, Feli, why would you do this?" Spain was now hugging Italy, who was a mess of tears.

*In The Conference Room*

Romano and Germany had heard the shouting. They made quick eye contact and headed out of the room. Neither said anything as they ran to the bathroom, for both knew what the other was thinking.

When they saw the bathroom door already open, their suspicions were confirmed. They walked into the bathroom hoping they were wrong but expecting to be right.

"Dannazione Feli, non di nuovo!" Romano yelled, slamming his fists into the wall. Germany just looked at Italy, at a loss for words.

"Romano, did you know about this?" Spain asked, holding Italy's bleeding arm.

"Si." Romano said as he knelt next to Italy and began to tend to his arm. Due to Italy's cutting, Romano had developed a habit of keeping some gauze on him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I didn't think you would have to know." Now Romano looked at Italy. "Here. Of all places. In the middle of a world meeting!"

"I didn't think there would be walk-ins," Italy said coldly. He pulled his sleeve down and stood up. "We should head back, you two probably already made a scene leaving and I bet France thinks were going to come back with our clothes on backwards."

"Yeah, let's get outta here." Romano and Spain walked out together. Italy was about to leave when Germany grabbed his shoulder.

"Italy."

"Ve~?"

"I'm not going to ask why, not now anyway, but if you touch your wrist at all during the meeting, no sex when we get back."

"But Germany, you'll suffer too then."

Germany reached out and gently held Italy's curl.

"I can assure you Feliciano, I can go much longer than you," Germany said quietly. He released Italy's curl and they both walked back to the meeting, Italy with a slight blush.

Italy was much more fidgety when they got back; mainly because he was semi-hard. It was clear Romano knew the cause, because the feelings from the curl were mutual. Also because Romano was giving Germany a death glare.

The meeting eventually ended with France, America, and England arguing over who knows what. Italy near sprinted to the car. _"If only he could perform like that in training…"_

Italy ran to the bedroom as soon as Germany unlocked the door. He plopped on the bed and took off his shoes after a struggle. Germany, being the tease he is, took his time in removing his shoes by the door.

As soon as Germany walked into the bedroom, Italy pinned him on the bed and attacked his lips. Italy ran his hands through Germany's hair, oh, how he loved it messy. Germany was working on Italy's jacket as they kissed, tongues exploring the other's mouth.

The two went at it, not caring who heard. They both knew how loud Italy could be, and Germany only made him louder.

When they had finished, they laid next to each other, close and feeling safe in the heat of one another.

"Ich liebe dich, Feliciano."

"Ti amo, Ludwig." The two fell asleep in each other's arms.

**A/N: Okay, time for mood killer translations. I think the only one you would actually need is**

**'Dannazione Feli, non di nuovo' which is 'Damn it, Feli, not again!' Please review and such!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: OTL I grovel and deeply apologize this took so long. School was ending so exams, and then summer started so I thought I would have time. Nope. Insta-plans including a new nephew (who I named Spain. He has taken to the name quite well.). But about the fic. I decided to take MANY things into consideration, including the long wait I put everyone through so I will give you three chapters. In a close time frame. And they shouldn't be as short as others either. My main dilemma with this was…I forgot entirely what I was going for because my mind was in the midst of an Itacest phase. It's not easy to do GerIta with one's mind on Itacest...that may kill the fic. So I didn't LET myself write for the past week. But now, I offer you a few [hopefully] wonderful chapters! Let this be an author's note for all three chapters, so now, for warnings! ***Self harm, Romano's mouth. That's about it. Sex might be pretty scarce in this fic just because this is a shared computer…but…that could always change! I have also taken your reviews into GREAT consideration (I'm shocked at the attention this fic gets, so many favorites and such), but there are anonymous reviews and such. So I reply here.**

**FlyingPig: Thank you! I wasn't sure how I did, even after going back and re-reading it. ^_^**

**LittleMissDarkling: You review made me think. A lot. And now I have decided that the plot is going to get much deeper than I had originally intended. OTL Forever grateful, arigato!**

**I should really start with the chapter now…don't you think?**

_ Germany was on the ground, bleeding. Russia's pipe covered in his blood._

_ "Please…stop…" was all he could muster. Italy was being held back by America. All Italy could do was scream. Russia hit Germany on his ribs. Italy could hear them break. _

_ "Germany!" _

_ "Italy, look away!" Germany ordered. Italy saw Russia raise the pipe above his head and swing it down. _

"Italy, wake up!" Germany was coaxing Italy out of what appeared to be a terrible nightmare. The small Italian looked at Germany with big, bronze, tear-filled eyes. He was shaking.

"G-Germany!" Italy buried his face in Germany's chest and held on tight, as if he would never let go. Germany wrapped his arms around Italy, resting his chin on Italy's head.

"Feliciano, it's alright. Calm down. What was your dream about?" Germany asked, rubbing Italy's back in a comforting manner.

"Germany, it was terrible! They took you…and Romano was…and I couldn't do anything…and-" Italy choked out an explanation between sobs but ended up cutting himself off in a hysterical fit.

"Oh Italy, it's alright. I'm right here. Please, calm down Italy." Germany was deeply concerned and worried now. Yes, there had been nightmares before, there was crying before, Germany had seen many situations with Italy in the middle of the night.

But this was different. Italy seemed to be in true distress. Germany wanted to put up a barrier, so that the world couldn't harm his Italy. He would have to be that barrier.

Germany stroked the back of Italy's hair, trying to calm him down.

"Germany?"

"Yes, Italy?"

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"Go on."

Italy climbed out of bed and exited the room. Germany heard the bathroom door close.

*In The Bathroom*

Italy laid down on his belly by the cabinet. He groped around until he found it. His blade. Italy grasped it, pulled it out, and sat up. He unwrapped the gauze already on his arm and set the blade on the fresh cut. It stung. He pressed down slowly, watching fresh blood leak out of his arm. He took comfort in the sight. It was his blood, not Germany's. He was in bliss as he added more cuts. Everything was alright.

Until there was a gentle knock on the door.

"Italy, are you alright?"

Italy threw the blade back under the cabinet.

"S-si!" Italy flushed the toilet and wrapped his arm back up. He opened the door to see Germany standing there.

"Are you sure? You didn't have a belt to confuse you this time."

Italy was still naked. Germany had put on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt after Italy left.

"We should get back to sleep, Germany," Italy said, walking past Germany. Germany grabbed Italy's upper arm.

"We should really change this first. It's soaked." Germany was looking at the gauze. It was indeed blood soaked.

"N-no! It's fine! I can wait till morning!" Italy tried to pull his arm away.

"Come on Italy. You don't want blood all over the bed, do you?" Italy hesitated. Germany took his chance and set Italy on the counter.

As Germany was walking to the cabinet to get some fresh gauze, he stepped in something slightly sticky. He looked down, then at Italy.

"Italy, you were cutting again, weren't you?"

"I'm sorry Germany! Mi dispiace!" Italy was crying again. Germany rushed over and hugged him to silence him.

"Italy, please calm down. I'm not mad, but I do want you do stop this." Germany let go of Italy and grabbed gauze out of the cabinet and went back over to Italy. He unwrapped Italy's arm. He had indeed been cutting again. Germany tried not to show his emotions for Italy's sake. He cleaned and wrapped the cuts, then picked Italy up bridal style and took him back into the bedroom.

Germany got under the covers with Italy and pulled him close. Soon, Germany noticed the sobs and shaking had ceased. Germany watched Italy as he slept. He looked more peaceful. Germany held onto Italy as he fell asleep.

Germany woke up early and went downstairs to make breakfast. He decided to just make a couple of omelets for him and Italy, not willing to try his hand at pasta without Italy to instruct him. Not that he would admit it. He went in the fridge and got out the eggs, cheese, and a tomato. He started to cook.

Italy awoke and noticed that Germany was no longer next to him. He sat up, panicking. He stopped when he smelled something tasty. He flung the covers off and ran downstairs.

Italy flung his arms around Germany and nearly sent a pan flying.

"Buongiornno!"

"Guten mor-Feliciano! Put some pants on!" Germany reddened as he shoved the naked Italian off of him and continued cooking.

"Mi dispiace!" Italy said before fleeing upstairs. He looked around the room and found a pair of Germany's sweatpants. He slipped them back on and headed downstairs.

Italy entered the kitchen as Germany was setting glasses of juice next to filled plates. He plopped down in a chair next to Germany's and picked up his fork.

"Ve, it smells good, Germany!" Italy said cheerfully before he took a bite.

"Thank you," Germany replied before starting on his breakfast as well. Germany occasionally glanced up at Italy, who seemed intent on finishing his meal. He always had been a big eater; all of the Nations knew that. _I'll have to talk to him about the meeting at some point today…_Germany thought. He drained his glass and got up to put his dishes in the sink. "I'll be in my study," he said to Italy, exiting the room. _Later today. Maybe when he decides to prance in on my work…no…I have to be firm with him. I'll give him an hour. _

Italy got up and put his dishes in the sink, then went to fall back asleep in Germany's chair in the living room.

Germany entered the living room, now fully dressed, to find Italy curled up in his chair, sleeping. Dare he wake the peaceful looking Italian for this?

"Italia, wake up." Germany gently shook Italy awake.

"G-Germany?" Italy blinked up at Germany, wondering why he woke him.

"We need to talk."

"Ve? Huh-" Italy squeaked in surprise as he was lifted into Germany's lap.

"I said I wouldn't ask you at the meeting, but we're home now. So, why were you cutting at the meeting?" Germany hated being so straightforward about it, but there was no simple way of easing into the matter.

Italy realized why he was in Germany's lap instead of on the couch. The second he tried to flee, Germany held his arms tight around Italy's waist. Knowing he wouldn't be able to escape Germany's hold, Italy instead decided to bury his face into Germany's chest.

"Feli, hiding won't fix this. You know you can tell me," Germany said, stroking the back of Italy's hair, trying to soothe him.

Italy shook his head.

"Please? I won't think any less of you Italy. I want to help you."

"I…just like how it feels. The pain. The sting. The color of the blood. Knowing it's my pain and not someone else's." Italy spoke, slightly muffled by Germany's shirt, but Germany understood none the less.

"Italy, there are other ways to go about enjoying pain. I'm sure you have red paint. And just because you put yourself in pain, doesn't mean you are taking someone else's."

"Yes it does. If I choose to take the pain, someone else won't have to feel it."

"But Italy, it hurts us to see you like this."

At this point, Italy was sobbing. Germany didn't know what to do…none of his manuals could prepare him for this. Romano knew more about this than he did, but should he ask the elder Italian about it? Romano may not be caught dead helping Germany, but he would help Italy. No, Germany didn't want to bring Romano in just yet…not if this could be solved. This didn't seem like something to make into a group project.

"Germany?"

"Yes, Italy?" Germany looked down to see tear filled eyes staring up at him.

"C-can I go make some pasta?"

"Ja, alright." Germany released Italy, who scurried off to the kitchen, knowing that making pasta would calm him down.

Italy finally got all of the ingredients for his special pasta, trenette al pesto. He got out a pot and started some water on the stove to boil. He dug around in a drawer until he found a knife suitable to cut the potatoes.

Italy was quickly mesmerized by the shiny silver of the blade. He ran his fingertips across the shiny blade. He was playing with the knife and soon found three large gashes across his palm.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Alright, here's chapter 8! I'm pretty sure if you are here you have read the bulk author's note already, so there's not really much for me to put here other than enjoy the chapter! And I also greatly apologize for my procrastination…*head desk* thank Primus I have a wonderful beta… (StarFormerAdira. Go look at her fic. Now.)

Italy didn't want Germany to find out, but Germany already caught him last night and at the meeting, and he would need help bandaging his hand if he ever wanted to finish the pasta. Italy made a decision.

He walked into the living room where Germany was currently reading a newspaper. Italy walked over so that he was standing in front of Germany. Germany glanced up at him and set his paper down.

"Germany, could you help me?" Italy asked quietly.

"With what?" Wasn't Italy making pasta? Surely he wouldn't ask Germany for help with that.

Italy held out his bleeding hand and looked away, not saying anything.

"Italy, what happened?" Germany asked as he stood up. He started to walk to the bathroom, the Italian in tow.

"I…don't know…" Italy said as he was placed on the counter. He watched as Germany grabbed the gauze and antiseptic. Germany began to clean Italy's hand. Italy flinched as he felt the sting of the antiseptic.

"How do you not know how cuts this deep happen, Italy?" Germany asked as he cleaned Italy's hand.

"I guess I wasn't paying attention…im sorry!" Italy had a slight panic to his voice, and Germany noticed it. Once he had finished bandaging Italy's hand, he leaned over and hugged the Italian.

"It's alright Italy, just be more careful. I'll help you get things cut up," Germany offered as he helped Italy down.

"Okay!" Italy was back to his normal self as he skipped down to the kitchen.

Germany followed at a normal pace. He could tell that the cuts weren't careless mistakes. If Italy had cut himself while cutting vegetables, it would have been on his fingers. He also would have screamed the second the blade touched him. No, these cuts were definitely on purpose. Germany wasn't going to confront Italy about it, though. He had trusted Germany enough to go to him for help, knowing full well that questions could be asked. Germany wasn't going to take advantage of that.

"Germany, could you dice the potatoes? I never got around to that."

"Ja-Italy! What are you doing?" Germany was staring at Italy, who was hitting the stove burner with a towel.

"The water boiled over! I was trying to dry it off!"

"At least turn the stove off first!" Germany scolded as he moved Italy away from the stove. He placed the pot of water on a different burner to let the one Italy had been using dry. "Just…make sure it doesn't over flow again, okay?" Italy nodded.

Germany found a knife and began to dice the potatoes and put them in a bowl. Italy didn't get any blood on the food (luckily) which confirmed Germany's thoughts: it wasn't an accident.

They finished making the pasta together, which seemed to please Italy. They ate together in relative peace. Italy struggled to eat with only one hand, but managed rather clumsily. He also managed to spill his wine only once.

The two did the dishes together when they were done eating and once the kitchen was cleaned up, went to cuddle on the couch. Italy snuggled up close to Germany while Germany ran his hands though Italy's messy yet soft hair. It was times like these where the two forgot they were nations. Forgot their responsibilities. Forgot everything and everyone else. In times like these, they were just Feliciano and Ludwig, and that was all that mattered.

"Germany?" Italy looked up at Germany.

"Yes, Italy?"

"Ti amo."

Germany smiled. "Ich liebe dich." Italy curled closer to Germany. He didn't need to worry about pain, or blood, or anything. Germany was there.

Italy was falling asleep in Germany's arms when the doorbell rang.

"Ve, I'll get it!" Italy got up and stumbled to the front door. He clumsily opened it and flung himself onto the visitor. "Ve, Fratello!"

"Ch-chigi! Get off me!" Romano exclaimed as he shoved his brother off of him. Germany was standing in the door frame after hearing the commotion, watching the exchange. "Potato bastard." Romano acknowledged Germany.

"Hello, Romano. What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on mi fratellino," Romano told Germany. He then turned to Italy. "Why won't you answer your phone?"

"Mi dispiace! I lost it again!" Italy quickly apologized. Romano backhanded the side of his brother's head. Italy cringed.

"Idiota! Keep track of it! What if our boss called you? Keep track of your fucking stuff!" Romano yelled at his brother. Italy had taken refuge behind Germany.

"M-mi dispiace! Mi dispiace!"

As Italy was flailing his arms around, trying to apologize to his brother, Romano noticed. Romano noticed the bandages wrapped around Italy's hand.

"Feliciano."

"Ve?"

"Vieni qui." Romano commanded.

Italy edged from behind Germany to in front of his brother. Romano gently grabbed Italy's wrist and lifted it up to examine his hand. Italy tried to pull away. He only managed to pull his sleeve off his wrist more. Romano caught sight of those bandages too.

"What the hell is this, Feli?"

Italy tried to go back by Germany but Romano wouldn't have it. He pulled Italy closer.

"Feliciano," Romano said in a softer tone.

Italy broke down. He was crying as he tried to explain to Romano, but he was hardly understandable. Romano pulled him into a hug. Germany sighed and went inside, knowing Romano would eventually get Italy to talk.

"Shh…Feli, it's alright. Just tell me," Romano coaxed as he stroked Italy's hair, trying to soothe him.

Italy had eventually calmed down enough to speak.

"Last night I had a really bad dram and when I went in the bathroom I found my blade and I couldn't help it and then this morning when I was making the pasta the knife was so distracting!" Italy managed to explain, rushing. Romano understood.

"Feli…when you…when you want to cut…you go to me…or…or the Potato Bastard," Romano said. Italy nodded. As much as Romano wanted to tell Italy to stay away from Germany because it was his fault Italy had started up again, he couldn't bring himself to do that to Italy. Romano could see that Germany could help Italy and Italy was comfortable around Germany in his time of need. Romano wouldn't ruin that.

Romano released Italy when the sobbing had finally ceased. He ruffled Italy's hair and looked him in the eye.

"Feli, as your brother, I want you to stop this. I know it won't stop as easily as it started up, but…we can fix it…we'll help you."

"I…I'll try…"

"Grazie. I should probably get back to the Tomato Bastard. Otherwise he'll start calling everyone soon and end up in bed with France with a hangover…ciao."

"Ciao!" As Romano left, Italy went inside and closed the door. He headed upstairs and found Germany in his study.

Italy let himself in and stood in front of the desk.

"Hey, Germany?"

"What is it, Italy?" Italy had that mischievous tone to his voice. He wanted something, and Germany knew it.

"Could we…go to the lake tomorrow?" Italy asked.

"Um…ja…I guess. We really didn't have plans for tomorrow. Yes, we can go to the lake."

"Grazie!" Italy cheered as he wrapped his arms around Germany.

"Ja, ja. But why do you want to go the lake all of a sudden?" Germany was curious now. Italy never sprang up with plans. He always rambled on about something for days then asked. Had Germany been so busy that he hadn't noticed Italy talking about the lake? No. Italy hadn't mentioned the lake before today.

"Well, I don't really know. I guess going swimming would just be something newer! We haven't gone in a while. Not since we were stuck on that island anyway…" Italy had now lost his point and was deep in thought.

"Italy, if you have no other business in here, could you please go take one of your siestas or something? I have work to finish."

"Ve, could you come sleep with me when you're done?" Italy pouted. He never really liked taking siestas alone…or sleeping alone for that matter.

"Yes, but the faster you go, then the faster I can finish."

"Okay!" Italy left the room, shedding clothes as he headed to the bedroom. He hopped in bed and curled up under the covers close to Germany's side of the bed and fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: HI THERE. I formally apologize for the great delay and procrastination in this chapter but prepare for a…..FICSPLOSION. THAT'S RIGHT. I'M MAKING PUNS. So…now that I'm in a study hall, I'm hoping to put out chapters of Breaking the Chain, More Than Just Hunger Pains, and ANOTHER SUPER SECRET THINGY THAT ONLY MY BETA AND I KNOW THE EXISTENCE OF. On another note…HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEW EPISODES OF HETALIA? THEY'RE GREAT! I'm really happy to be putting chapters out once more, so HERE'S SOME ANGST. AND NOT ANGST. IT'S A MIX.

Germany finished working on his paperwork sometime later. He stood up and headed to the bedroom, picking up Italy's clothes as he went.

Germany saw the small Italian sleeping peacefully and crawled into bed next to him. He pulled Italy close and fell asleep, concentrating on Italy's soft breathing.

When Italy awoke, he felt Germany's heartbeat and instantly nuzzled his head into Germany's chest. The movement awoke the German. Italy blinked up at Germany with his caramel eyes.

"Buongiornno~."

"Guten morgen."

"Germany?"

"Ja?"

"Could we make pasta for dinner?"

Germany smiled. "Yes."

The two lay in bed and cuddled for a little longer before getting up, and dressing in Italy's case. They then headed downstairs to the kitchen together.

"Ve~ Germany! Let's make lasagna!"

"Do we even have the noodles for that?"

"Sure we do!" Italy climbed up on the counter and flung the cupboard open, almost hitting himself in the face. At this, Germany grabbed his waist.

"Don't fall."

"I won't~! Here it is!" Italy grabbed a box from the top shelf and handed it to Germany, who set it on the counter before helping Italy down.

Germany was currently driving to the beach with two noisy Italians in his backseat and a chattering Spaniard in his passenger seat. The only reason he allowed the other two to come with is because Italy had insisted.

_"Ve, Germany, Spain and Romano should come with! It would be like a double date!"_

That Italian could make him jump off a cliff; it would probably be after Italy tripped and fell, but he would jump without hesitation.

Germany was soon pulled out of his thoughts by Spain.

"Germany, isn't that our exit?" the Spaniard gestured to the off ramp.

"Ve! Germany! Drive faster so we get there quicker!" Italy bounced in eagerness.

"Why would he do that, stupido? It will take longer to get there if we get pulled over," Romano said as he smacked Italy.

"Ow! Romano~ That hurt!"

"Stop bickering you two! I'm trying to drive!"

"Roma~ No hitting~! And Germany, I thought your multitasking skills would have improved after being with Italy for so long~."

Germany just groaned as he pulled into the parking structure of the hotel they would be staying at. Italy insisted this be a weekend long trip. Bad idea that was; he could feel a headache lingering at the back of his head. Why were Mediterranean nations so loud, anyways? Germany found a suitable parking space and turned off the car. Everyone got out and grabbed their bags from the trunk.

It was a good thing they were at an Italian hotel, as the noisiness didn't cause a scene while Romano checked them in. Italy was happy that they were all going to get to spend some time together. And with Spain and Romano around, Germany wouldn't be able to hurt him. Of course, even if Germany did hit him, Italy had excuses ready. And his razor blade. He never left home without that or his pocket knife, now. They were his security blankets and he didn't plan on letting go.

Their room was on the fifth floor, overlooking the sea. Germany ended up unpacking for Italy since Italy was staring out the window. Spain and Romano were arguing over who got which side of the bed.

"You could just sleep on top of me like usual~"

"Shut up, you pervert!" Romano smacked Spain with a pillow. Italy took notice of this.

"Ve…pillow fight!" Italy shouted as he grabbed a pillow and swung at Germany.

"Dammit, Italy!" Germany tossed Italy onto Spain and Romano's bed, as the Italian had knocked over his folding. Italy was giggling and defending himself with a pillow as Romano attacked him.

"Ve~ Romano! Stop that!"

"No! You wanted a pillow fight, so you get a damn pillow fight!"

"Roma~!" Spain called as he swung a pillow at Romano's ass. The two then got in an argument and pillow/fist fight of their own. Most of the fists were Romano's. Germany was searching desperately for his aspirin as Italy slinked off to the bathroom.

Once he was sure the door was locked and shut tight, Italy rolled up his sleeve. He unrolled the gauze and tossed it in the trash. He stared at the cuts. It was intriguing. Why did he do it? He was the nation that hated the war and the pain in the world, yet he sat and stared at his own blood with a strange, almost masochistic, glee. But why? Why did he feel the need to do it? Nothing was really bad in his life-at least nothing he could complain about. He wasn't sick. He had a great, loving boyfriend. So what if Germany hit him a little when he was drunk? Lots of guys got violent when they were drunk, right? And he was a nation! Everything was taken care of. Maybe he was just being an attention whore! That's it! He had relapsed the night it had been all about Germany. And ever since then, the others had been worried about him and not congratulating Germany!

What if Germany drank just so he had an excuse to hit Italy? It had to end. The others didn't deserve for their lives to revolve around pathetic Italy. It was going to end and it was going to end tonight.

Italy wrapped his arm in some fresh gauze, albeit sloppily. He was never good at wrapping his arms.

Italy was just putting the gauze away when there was a knock at the door.

"Feli? You okay?" Spain asked. He sounded concerned. He probably expected a bloody Italy to open the door.

"Ve, I'm fine!" Italy said as he opened the door, a smile plastered on his face.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay…"

"Really! Why don't we get something to eat?"

"You're always hungry, aren't you?"

"A healthy Italia has a healthy appetite," Romano said as he joined the conversation.

"Is living off of carbs _that_ healthy?"

"You'd know, wouldn't you, potato bastard?!"

"I don't live off of potatoes."

"Don't fight you two~"

"Stay out of this-I'll fight with whoever I want whenever I damn well please!"

"Fratello! Stop being mean! And I'm hungry!"

"Fine. Potato head is paying."  
"Lovi! Don't be so rude!"

"Fine. _Beer breath is paying._"

"We'll split the check! Start acting like the grown nations you are and let's go."

"No need to yell, Luddy…"

They all grabbed their jackets and wallets and put on their shoes (Germany helping Italy with his), before walking out the door.

The nations were headed to an Italian restaurant. Any bickering between Spain and Romano was drowned out by Italy's cheerful anticipation for dinner. The three other nations in the car were absolutely clueless as to how this Italian could be so happy and cheerful, while his arms were so scarred.

When they arrived, Italy stumbled and fell as he got out of the car. He flinched as Germany helped him up; the German had accidentally grabbed his wrist.

"I-I'm sorry, Feliciano," Germany quickly apologized as he noticed why Italy had flinched.

"It's not a problem! I just fell," Italy quickly brushed it off, clearly not wanting to bring attention to his bad habit.

Germany held the door open for Italy and the group found their seats. Pastas and soups were ordered, along with breadsticks. The Italies ordered wine with their dinners while Spain and Germany opted for water. It was an expensive restaurant.

The nations waited patiently for their meals, Italy at one point even asked for crayons to color on his placemat (they gave him a box).

"Stop that!" Romano snapped at his brother across the table.

"Stop what?"

"Kicking me."

"Ve…I'm not kicking you."

"Yes you are."

"No!"

"Damn it, knock it off!" This time, Romano emphasized his demands with a kick to Italy's shin. Italy _had_ been subconsciously kicking his legs.

"Ow!" Italy sent a kick back towards his brother. Germany and Spain simply ignored the two, hoping their antics would stop on their own. But it continued with an occasional squeak from Italy, probably from is bruised legs.

"Enough!" Barked Germany as he lifted Italy and swapped spots with him.

"Gross. I don't want to have to choke down my food while staring at you."

"Lovi! Behave!"

Germany simply closed his eyes and hoped his oncoming headache would be merciful.

Spain was lecturing Romano when the waitress walked up with plates of food. Italy bounced in delight, as he was rather hungry now.


End file.
